


O Captain, My Captain

by feroxa



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Amnesia, M/M, Memory Loss, Mildly Dubious Consent, Psychological Torture, Torture, Violence, everything is very sad, hes the winter soldier soo, i'll tag more in later chapters, idk i haven't written them, or at least i think so for later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 11:03:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2307332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feroxa/pseuds/feroxa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Soldier's mission was to collect and detain Captain America and take him to a Safe House. The costs of the mission are infinite as The Winter Soldier starts to regain his memories. Once again, both are behind enemy lines, prisoners in their own rights. But haven't they always been?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all I would like to thank my lovely beta and life savior BleachmyNARUTO over at fanfiction.net, without her this would have been so much worse and I probably would have never posted it. And just to prepare you this is basically a whole lot of emotions smashed together, so there you go. This will be many chapters but idk how many yet, so there's that to look forward to. There is torture in this chapter (albeit not thaaat bad) so there is blood and knife wounds so if that triggers you then use your best judgement. There is not smut in this chapter (or in any of the ones i've wrote yet) but there will be EVENTUALLY, or that's what I have planned so far. But enough of me blabbing, have fun reading and I hope you enjoy it!!!

A dull sensation filled his brain, eyes opening with urgency and panic. He was strapped to a table, the part of the room he could see was empty, save for the scientists. He recognized the room, the blurry faces looking down at him, although they seemed much older than when he had seen them last. They were all on guard, cautious as if they were working near a wild animal. They were right to be afraid, but his brain was too fuzzy to start a fight, even though he blearily knew he would win.

They spoke to him in rapid Russian. He understood. His eyes remained unfocused and shifted, but the mission was clear.

_Kill Nick Fury._

They gave him his weapons, his protective gear, and he was off. He was calm, cool, intent as he watched Nick Fury die. But _that man_ with the target, the man that chased him across the rooftop, was different. Those differences tugged on his brain, made him want to scratch out the memory, resist the wipes and sleep that always followed his mission. But they put him under anyway, and when they awoke him next time the tugging was gone. He was all cold glassy eyes and twisted metal arm once more, and that was all that he could remember ever being.

They instructed him about his next mission, tense, almost excited, their words buzzing through the air around him, but he remained unaffected.

_Find and detain Captain America. Take to safe house 214. Do not kill._

He furrowed his brow in a questioning scowl. He always killed, and it was what he did best. The fact they put him on this mission meant something, but he couldn’t tell what. They took his confusion as disobedience and he was punished, his brain burning, but soon he was on his mission.

Masks, explosions, black-clad combatants. It all blurred together into any other mission. There were two others fighting with the target. Backups would take out the irrelevant fighters or pedestrians, but the target was his. Just by looking at him, the soldier could tell this man wouldn’t go consciously, but that was fine. He had enough tranquilizers to take down an elephant.

They fought, hand to hand, face to face, rough and dirty; he was more equally matched than he had been in a long time. At another point, his mask had come off and the target was distracted, eyes wide with pain and confusion, incredulity.

“Bucky?” He asked in a voice hardly above a whisper.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” He used the confusion to his advantage, shoving needle into his target’s pale skin roughly.

The target swayed but didn’t go down, movements were lagging and his punches rarely landed. With one more dose and he was slumped onto The Winter Soldier who motioned for reinforcements. None came, and a glance to the battlefield showed that all were either dead on the ground or still fighting. He grit his teeth, turning to one of the abandoned vehicles close to them. It still had a key in place and seemed fast enough so he shoved Captain America to the passenger seat roughly and made his escape.

They had been driving for hours, and now they were far outside the city. They had remained mostly unnoticed in the chaos of the fight, and those who had noticed were not in any state to share the information. Captain America had been sleeping soundly for the whole ride, scrapes and bruises healing visibly while he was unconscious. The Winter Soldier kept a close eye on him the whole drive, fascinated by his captive. He felt that nagging in his brain again, like there was a word he was searching for but couldn’t think of. Just on the tip of his tongue, but far more frustrating. He tried to ignore it, but it just made him scrutinize his prisoner even more. He didn’t know if he wanted the mission to be over or not, because he felt more alive than he had in years, but his emotions were so convoluted and hard to comprehend he wanted them to stop. Ignoring his confusion was getting harder and harder, and he was beginning to feel restless. He set his eyes to the road and kept driving.

Steve awoke slowly, eyes opening with confusion. Instinct set in before rationality had a chance to intervene. He was halfway to striking the man next to him before he felt the cool metal on his temple. The Winter Soldier, Bucky, was holding a gun to his head, yet his eyes were still on the road.

“Sit back normally and put your hands on your lap.” They both were still and the tension was palpable. “Disobey and I will kill you.” The hostage believed him, sitting back in his normal position. It was quiet in the car, the gun was still to his head, but after a few moments The Winter Soldier lowered it but still held it in his hand.

“Bucky…” Steve started, eyes searching The Winter Soldiers face.

“Why are you call me that?” It was a rude interruption and a slap to the face for the Captain.

“It’s your name.” Steve said slowly, “James Buchanan Barnes, but everyone just called you Bucky. You hated being called James, said it was way too prissy for you.” He knew he was babbling, but he had to make Bucky to remember somehow. He couldn’t just be gone! He couldn’t deal with that. He couldn’t be seeking for his best friend only be looking at an empty shell.

“Winter Soldier. That is what you will refer to me as.” He didn’t have a name. This man was desperate and lying. Weapons didn’t have names.

“Bucky; I can’t call you that--!” He was cut off by a gun being put to his head again and a growl rumbling from the man next to him.

“Obey.” Shivers ran down Steve’s spine. He nodded and swallowed thickly. His hands were shaking.

The Winter Soldier lowered the gun without so much as looking at him.

They were close. On a curving road surrounded by tall trees. There were no other cars, or at least they very far and very few in between. They pulled into a long dirt driveway and parked next to an old wooden cabin. The base was meant to appear unassuming and abandoned. It was so quiet, with only the sound of wind and animals to be heard. Before getting out of the car, The Winter Soldier took slim silver handcuffs out of his pockets. He motions for Steve to give him his hands and he fastens the handcuffs around his wrists. Steve quirked an eyebrow at him. They both know these flimsy things would not hold him if he fought. The Winter Soldier’s expression didn’t change as he just got out of the car, going over to the passenger side to open Steve’s door. He never got the chance.

Steve opened the door himself, slamming it into The Winter Soldier. But before he could even start running he dropped to the ground, electricity searing through his veins. Soon the volts stopped, and he just lay there trying to breath. Without warning The Winter Soldier’s boot was on his chest, pressing the air out of his lungs. He looked down at the Captain with no remorse on his face.

“You will be punished for trying to run.” He pressed down harder on Steve’s chest as Steve groaned in pain. “Do you understand, Captain?” Steve couldn’t breath.

“Yes.” He wheezed out.

“Yes what?” The Winter Soldier pressed harder.

“Yes sir.” The Winter Soldier grinned; it was small and cruel, but there. He lifted his foot off of Steve, who coughed and gulped in air immediately. He waited for only a moment so Steve could catch his breath.

“Get up.” The Captain did as he was told with only a little bit of difficulty. He walked before the Winter Soldier at gunpoint. They came to the front door where there was a keypad. Bucky reached around Steve’s muscled bulk to put in the code. A fingerprint analysis completed the sequence and the door opened.

The inside of the cabin was normal, all wood with functional furniture and doilies. It was cute, just like the cabins middle class parents dreamt of. The Winter Soldier wasn’t fazed, walking into the master bedroom, making sure Steve followed. He went over to the bedside table and opened a drawer, and then reached under it to put in a passcode. The bed slid up and revealed a staircase under it. Steve descended the staircase with Bucky behind him. The Winter Soldier closed the secret doorway and navigated them down the gray staircase and hallways. Most of what was behind the doors was horrifying, and he knew that somewhere in this maze there was a chair for his wipe.

He briefly considered dismantling it, leaving, doing something to get out of this situation, but his hardwired obedience made him shut down those kinds of thoughts.

The Captain didn’t look frightened, just a little grimy from when he had fallen to the ground. He didn’t know anything of what kinds punishments there would be, and the Winter Soldier knew even less. The Soldier probably wouldn’t be the one to carry it out. This would likely be the last time he ever saw Captain America before they put him back on freeze. He didn’t feel anything at that revelation; at least that odd tugging would go away soon if he never saw the Captain again.

They finally came to the holding cells where the Winter Soldier stopped, looking mildly at Steve, who masked his fear surprisingly well. The Soldier opened the door and watched Captain America walked into the small gray room with only a bed, toilet, and sink as far as dressings went. The blond man looked large and out of place in that barren room, keeping eye contact with the Soldier until he closed the door, leaving the Captain alone. The Soldier stopped himself. That man was the Captain of nothing and nobody, now. He was just the prisoner.

Further in the hall, the Winter Soldier suddenly felt like a traitor. He didn’t understand _why_ , but the pull to open the door he had just closed was almost unbearable. He wanted to run away, to take the prisoner, let him be Captain again, and go far away with him. His head was pounding and his hands shook. He turned away from the room with a ridiculous amount of difficulty, all the while cursing himself in Russian. He walked down the hallway quietly, going to get one of the spare sat phones in the locker room in the case of an incident like this. There was also a gun with extra pre-loaded magazines, several knives, cyanide tablets, and a first aid kit. They never let him near the tablets and he pondered them a moment before deciding they probably wouldn’t kill him anyway. He took the med kit with him, too, in case there were any wounds on the prisoner he missed.

He dialed the number he knew by heart. A man with a quick Russian tongue answered and the Soldier gave his serial number, the man tried not to act surprised but the Winter Soldier could feel it. He was put on hold until one of his master’s answered, impatience masking any other emotions.

“Status?”

“Our whole team was decommissioned. The Target was captured and anesthetized. He tried to run once we arrived. He was detained. He is now in a holding cell.” The Winter Soldier waited, hoping he had performed up to standards. He didn’t say anything about how The Captain made him feel, about how he had called him Bucky, a name he wished he could remember or forget entirely.

“Good. Have you punished him for his disobedience yet? We will have a team there in two days.” It was the highest praise The Winter Soldier had been given in a long time.

“Not yet. What are your orders, sir?” His mind was racing with the options and what his master would choose, a small part of him already feeling guilty.

“156.”

“Yes sir.” His master hung up. The Winter Soldier nodded. There were worse things. With The Captain’s healing abilities it would almost be nothing.

Almost.

The Winter Soldier opened the door quietly to see the prisoner ( _Captain, Captain..._ ) sitting on the bed perfectly still. The Captain turned his head to look at the man in the doorway, but kept his expression neutral. The Soldier sat next to the prisoner ( _Captain, Cap_ ), and put the med kit on his left. He started unzipping the compartments while Steve watched him curiously.

“You guys sure treat your prisoners well. A lot better than I remember.” He was thinking of Bucky, lying on the bed and rambling. The Bucky who had fought with him even after days of torture, and the Bucky he had failed. He swallowed thickly, hoping the Winter Soldier didn’t perceive it as fear.

Suddenly the Soldier was turned towards him, knife in hand and a careful apathy on his face. Then the knife was lodged deep in his leg, causing Steve to yell in surprise and pain.

“ _What the ever-loving **fuck** Bucky!_ ” His arm thrashed out, but the metal arm snagged them by the wrists and held them between their bodies. Steve grit his teeth against the pain. He didn’t even register this as the Winter Soldier or torture or politics. One moment they had been sitting there peacefully and the next there was a fucking _knife_ in his leg with the man who had put it there still holding onto it firmly. And in his subconscious this man was still his friend, his ally, his Bucky.

“My name is not Bucky.” The Winter Soldier growled, beginning to ever so slowly turn the knife in Steve’s leg, a steady stream of blood staining Steve Rogers’s jeans. “And this is your punishment for running.” Steve looked at the Soldier in the eye, frightened for the first time after awakening in this era. Because now he was really seeing the extent to which they had changed Bucky, had brainwashed and fucked with his mind and his emotions. He didn’t know if this man could even behave like a human anymore, if he could even remember being human at all. Steve bit his tongue, trying not to scream or whimper, trying not to show any fear or pain to the man searching his face as he slowly twisted the knife.

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. You grew up in Brooklyn with me,” Steve’s voice was tense, and rushed in his agony, “You were an orphan and my mom and I took you in. After my mom died, you got job after job, trying to support me because I was always sick and couldn’t do it myself.” Steve tried to keep his voice even, even with tears seeping out of his eyes. It wasn’t the pain in his leg that drew them, but the memories he was sharing.

“Stop talking.” The Winter Soldier muttered, shaking his head and twisting the knife harder.

Steve’s voice rose an octave. “Once you were old enough, you enlisted in the army and I was mad as hell I couldn’t follow you. You said you did it because the pay was better and more dependable and there were foreign girls and that it wasn’t my fault.” There were tears running down his face now from the pain and the emotions and _Bucky_ had to _remember---he just **had** to!_ “You went to the army and you were in the 107th division as a sniper and you were damn good. I kept trying to get in until Dr. Erskine found me and told me about becoming Captain America. They made it sound like I would be there with you, fighting by your side, right there winning the war!” _RememberrememberrememberREMEMBER!!_

“ _Stop. Talking._ ” Bucky said and Steve almost screamed from the knife slicing his leg, blood pouring freely out of the large gash that had opened from the knife being twisted. The Winter Soldier started twisting again, and Captain America did scream again, but fought to keep it under control, yelling the rest of his speech.

“ _I was just a pawn and they used me to get people to pay money to fund the war which was fine but I wanted to fight. Then I heard 107th was captured and you might be dead and Peggy made Stark fly me out as close as they could to where you were and you were there on an operating table half dead. They had tortured you and experimented on you and you were so happy to see me Bucky, and I was so happy to see you. We got out and fought the war but then we were on a mission in the mountains and we were on a train and I tried to save you but you fell off and you were just gone. I should have looked, I should have tried harder, I should have--!!!_ ”

“ _SHUT THE FUCK UP STEVE!_ ” The Winter Soldier screamed, lunging at Captain America. Steve was sobbing uncontrollably, holding onto The Winter Soldiers shoulders with his eyes wide. That was when the Soldier realized he hadn’t known the prisoner’s name. It hadn’t been given to him during the debrief or orders. He hadn’t know the prisoner’s name. _Captain. Steve. The Captain._

But Bucky had.

He stood up as fast as he could, roughly shoving Steve aside and hurrying out of the room. This couldn’t be possible. He wasn’t a man; he was a machine. He didn’t have memories. But in his mind’s eye he could see Steve Rogers when he was small, smiling at Bucky Barnes and laughing at some stupid joke. It couldn’t be possible. It couldn’t be possible. It couldn’t.

_Captain, my Captain..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I am late. 
> 
> Again thank you to BleachmyNARUTO at fanfiction.net for the editing and support. This chapter is cuddles and soup and tentative emotions, so enjoy.

Steve tried to calm himself once the Winter Soldier had left. He had been through worse, or at least that was what he tried to tell himself. He felt as if he were small again. Sick and alone.

There was still the forgotten knife in his leg, He winced as he sat up to get the first aid kit, left carelessly at the foot of the bed, trying to concentrate on treatment. _It needs to be stitched_ , he thought as he found the sterile needle and thread. He clenched his jaw and wrenched the knife from his leg. he hastily pressed a gauze pad to the gaping slash, trying to ignore the flood of red staining the white as he sew himself shut.

He didn’t trust himself to walk just yet; it wouldn’t do to break the stitches; so he just lay there on the hard bed, drenched with his blood. Somehow, it felt like he was covered in Bucky’s blood, too.

Steve tried to think of a plan, to think of strategies to escape from the place, but his mind kept going back to the Winter Soldier, to Bucky, with horror and surprise stamped on his face. With the blood loss he’d had, he felt drowsiness flood his senses. Relenting, he drifted to sleep, dreaming of a seedy Brooklyn apartment and alcohol shared with a lifelong friend.

 

The Winter Soldier was there when he woke up. He stood in the corner of the cell, watching him. Steve supposed he must have been there while he still slept. Steve opened his eyes slowly, turning towards him, unsurprised at his presence.

“Are you gonna punish me again?” The joke was flat even to his own ears; he hoped that he didn’t sound too afraid. The Winter Soldier didn’t answer, just watched him mildly, a devouring light in his eye making it gleam. The two faced each other like that for a while, silence reigning, while Steve was trying desperately to block out his pain.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t tell my superiors about you disobeying a direct order.” The Winter Soldier’s voice was rough and his eyes were cold. Steve’s mind raced.

“...Because you remembered.” He said at last. “If I hadn’t done it; you wouldn’t have remembered.”

“If you hadn’t said anything, you would have gone through a lot less pain.” Steve grimaced at the mention of the pain he was in.

He gave a placid shrug. “You’re worth it.”

The Winter Soldier tried not to look as though he were surprised. No one had said anything that kind to him for so long. It was far out of his memory’s reach to recall a statement that praised him. The Soldier was quietly contemplative for a few minutes, weighing if whether or not it would be worth the punishment he could receive.

Finally, he stepped towards Steve cautiously. The Captain shied away involuntarily, but the Soldier kept coming. He sat down at the foot of the bed, and began to unravel the bandages around Steve’s leg.

Steve watched for a moment, tense, preparing for another attack. The Winter Soldier looked down at the stitching and then at Steve.

“You did this?” He asked, half in awe, and half in horror. Steve shrugged in the face of it. “No one else to do it.”

The Winter Soldier didn’t know why _he_ felt so strongly for this man ( _he is not just the Prisoner, but neither is he the Captain_ ), but somewhere in the back of his mind, he saw Bucky cleaning Steve’s wounds after he got into a fight, all tender and caring for the young man as fragile as a bird. _Bucky wasn’t there to clean Steve’s wounds anymore, and Steve had to do it himself._ It was sad, he decided, and carefully started to dab away the blood caking the wound. It was the first time The Winter Soldier had been sad for a long time.

The Soldier bandaged the wound with fresh bandages and let Steve lay against the bed. He stood up silently as he packed the supplies away. Without thinking, he kissed Steve on the forehead gently, just as _he_ had every time he cleaned Steve up before. _Bucky, Bucky cared for Steve,_ _and Steve cared for you. Cared for Bucky. For you. Bucky, Winter Soldier. Bucky._ Steve looked up to him with such heartbreak in his eyes it frightened the Winter Soldier. He had killed so many, made so many suffer, why did _he_ care about this one man?

“I miss you, Buck.” Steve whispered before closing his eyes. The gray beneath his eyes began to fade as Steve fell to sleep. Bucky didn’t say anything, _couldn’t_ say anything, just located the knife he had lodged in Steve’s leg and turned to leave as silently as he had come. He paused by the door, though, before he left. He stood there and promised himself he would protect this man, he would find out what he meant to Bucky, to The Winter Soldier, and he would not let _anybody_ hurt him again. Orders be damned. This man was the exception. This man was the breaking point. Then he left, striding confidently out of the room. He had a mission.

He called in to update his superiors. He told them all was well and that Captain America hadn’t said anything important during his punishment, and that he had treated and dressed the wound so the Captain would not become infected or sick. His master didn’t say much, and hung up on Bucky when he was done reporting.

He made some soup in the cabin’s kitchen, which was fully stocked to give the impression that someone was living in the cabin. He wasn’t a great cook, but it was better than the slush they usually gave their prisoners, and he wanted to see Steve’s face when he gave it to him. His movements were stiff and awkward when he was in the kitchen; he hadn’t done anything this domestic in a long time, and it was strange for a body accustomed to combat. But he could get used to it. It wasn’t a terrible feeling.

When he returned to Steve’s room, Steve was awake again and sitting up on the bed. He smiled at the sight of Bucky in the doorway, holding a large bowl and spoon. The Winter Soldier walked over to him, and silently handed over the bowl. Steve looked down to it, then back up to Bucky with deep appreciation. Silently he motioned for Bucky to sit down on the bed beside him. His gear shifted uncomfortably but he sat still while Steve began to eat the soup. He wolfed it down, smiling at Bucky the whole time. He had to resist the urge to tell Steve to slow down so he wouldn’t make himself sick.

“Where’d you get this?” Steve asked, well aware that hot food was a rarity for prisoners. Bucky shrugged.

“I made it.” Steve stopped eating and looked to him.

“You made it?” He echoes, disbelieving. HIs smile was gentle. “It’s good. Thanks.” Bucky smiled, even though it was soft and barely there.

They sit in silence for a moment while Steve finishes eating. It’s comfortable, The Winter Soldier thinks, more comfortable than anything he has ever felt. He did not completely let his guard down, but in that moment he felt something distant and unnamable. But it wasn’t painful, and he felt thankful for it, even though he didn’t know what it is. He looked up to Steve, who was studying him religiously, and it almost made him want to smile.

“Do you remember anything else?” Steve asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“Bits and pieces,” Bucky admitted. “You used to be smaller. You used to get into a lot of fights and I would have to fix you up afterwards.” He closed his eyes, trying to picture his old life. “There were girls, but usually not for long. There’s a man… a car. I missed you a lot, I missed you and it was raining. I missed you while men, in the army I think, surrounded me. I missed you at night, and during the day and when they passed out cards with a patriotic man on them. I missed you when we were captured and I was put on a...table. I missed you- I---.” He took a deep breath, just now realizing he had been holding it in. Steve carefully put his hand on Bucky’s arm, something solid in a world of memories he wished he didn’t have. He looked over at Steve, so willing to believe in him and try to help him. He was still looking at him when visions of the first days of torture played in his head, when he finally learned what pain was. He was still looking at Steve when he remembered his vow to protect him. He was still looking at him when he lied. “I don’t remember anything else.”

Steve nodded and smiled. “That’s okay. I won’t push you.” He squeezed Bucky’s arm a little bit tighter, just to remind him that he was there. Bucky was so grateful for that touch, for that notion of camaraderie. He wanted to stay there forever with Steve touching him. He wanted to lie down in that small bed with Steve next to him, curled into each other like lovers, as they had done when they were young. It would be different, difficult, even, with the new stiffness in his bones and heart, and the sudden growth of _his_ Steve, but he had no doubt it would be just as good. It may even be better.

Then Steve yawned. He didn’t know the time or how long it had been since he had slept, but the rapid recovery of his body from the knife wound left him exhausted.

“I think I’m going to sleep.” Steve stated, and hoped that Bucky wouldn’t leave. It was a stupid idea, a useless idea, but he still wished for it anyway. “You can stay… if you want.” Bucky looked up to him quickly, making sure that Steve wasn’t joking in any way. Steve smiled shyly at him, and then looked down at the small bed. “It might be a tight fit…but we could try?” A small part of him was screaming to _not trust the man who had just stabbed him not 48 hours earlier_ , but he pushed it down as hard as he could. Bucky was his friend, and Steve trusted him.

Bucky was having his own internal conflict at the same time, and almost about the same thing. He was battling the fear of his superiors finding out and punishing him for it. But the desire to be with Steve, to feel his body next to him, was so intoxicating he wanted to give in. He wanted to. And so he did. Free will felt... _good_.

“Okay.” Bucky said quietly, noting the way Steve’s eyes went wide. He really hadn’t thought Bucky would agree. “But…let me get new covers that aren’t soaked in blood.” It was for Steve more than himself. He had slept under worse conditions.

“Thanks.” Steve whispered shyly and helped Bucky bundle the covers into a ball. Bucky took them out into the hallway and threw them into the incinerator shoot. The less evidence that the Winter Soldier had deviated from his instructions, the better.

He retrieved the new sheets from the laundry room, a closet so cramped that it was a miracle anything fit in it, but paused when he saw dark clothes in different colors. _Maybe I should change?_ He was wearing the outfit they had dressed him in, bulky bulletproof vest and solid combat boots. Space would be valuable in such a small bed, and his bulky attire would definitely take up too much room. So he shrugged off the vest and changed into a t-shirt that was dark and fit tight across his chest. It wasn’t uncomfortable. He still had his knife on him, and another one hidden at his ankle. He wasn’t completely unarmed, but the absence of the vest did make him feel more vulnerable. He shook his head, knowing Steve wouldn’t hurt him. Steve couldn’t hurt him. He smiled softly at that knowledge and started back towards the cell.

They made the bed together, tight and military as they had been taught. They didn’t speak much, and the silence was suffocating. The Winter Soldier took off his boots, eyes low. He looked up to see Steve gazing at him with an odd expression.

“When we were little, you had boots just like those. You wore them every day, even though they were too big for you for a long time. You thought you looked so tough with your hair slicked back and your big boots.” Steve smiled, remembering days so long ago. Bucky thought hard, his face frowning deeply, and then smiled a bit, too.

He remembered thinking that he looked so tough that no one would ever mess with Steve while he was around. Regardless of his efforts, people still teased Steve. In response, he would kick them with his boot that just _happened_ to have steel toes.

“My socks always had holes in them. You’d fix them up, but then a bit later they’d go right back to how they were before.” Steve laughed, bright and happy, so out of place in the small gray cell they were in. Bucky felt proud that he made Steve laugh. He felt proud to remember, even though it was small and almost meaningless.

They lay down on the bed, trying to remain apart so the other could have some form of personal space. It didn’t work very well, they quickly realized, as they were still a bit mashed together. It was the first time Bucky had lain in the same bed as a friend, or at least someone who didn’t mean to do him harm. It was so warm, so companionable. After a while of just laying there, breaths mingling, Steve finally broke the silence.

“Can I touch you?” He whispered, expecting rejection. Bucky looked him in the eyes, so blue and open and trusting. He tensed and swallowed, but nodded anyway. Steve wouldn’t hurt him. Steve _couldn’t_ hurt him. Slowly, so as to not surprise Bucky, Steve lifted his hand into Bucky’s hair. It was longer than it had ever been before and a lot more coarse, but still familiar in an odd way. Bucky sighed at the touch, his face betraying confusion at the soft pleasing touches. It was so gentle, so kind, and so different from anything he had ever felt in a long time. He could remember dark nights or lazy alcoholic haze when Steve had done this before, deft hands carding through his short hair, and then it had been pleasing, too, but so trivial. They had thought they would have all the time in the world. Time for soft touches and whispered words. Time for confessions of love. Because that’s what it was, he suddenly remembered. It had been love. So very pure and untainted, unselfish and willing. They had been in _love_.

They fell asleep after a while, moving closer together like it was natural, like they were pulled by some magnetic force. It was the first time the Winter Soldier slept peacefully in years, face buried in Steve’s shoulder. He felt warm and young, like maybe he just could be Bucky Barnes again. As if, maybe, he would wake up and all his years of suffering would be a dream, unreal and far away. He dreamed of summer and ice cream and big steel-toed boots. There were little kids and freckles and black eyes on faces that should never even have them. There was protection and warmth through hard times. There was Steve. There was Bucky. He was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck formatting man omfg. Anyways, hope you liked it, stuff probably isn't going to be this happy for a while... sorry. It would be great to hear from you guys if you want!!!! Thanks for all the kudos and stuff it srsly makes me feel like I'm on cloud nine!!!!! Thanks for reading!!!! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well more stuff happens in this chapter. People make out. OH AND ALSO I OWE MY BETA MY LIFE BleachmyNARUTO at fanfiction.net SHE HAS SAVED ME FROM BAD PORN HELL. So yeah.

When Steve awoke Bucky was gone. He wasn’t sure if he’d expected it or not, but his heart felt empty all the same. His leg throbbed dully while Bucky’s smile from seventy years ago flashed over and over in his mind. He sat up and swung his feet to the floor. Steve tried to stand without putting weight on his bum leg, but the pain shot through him with a nauseating acuteness. He grit his teeth and did his damndest to hobble to the sink.

Looking in the mirror, Steve thought he looked like hell, with his face grimy with tears and dirt, and his hair was a wild mess. He sighed, splashing water on his face, and turned to look at the door. Now he just had to wait. Wait like he did when he was sick and Bucky was at work. Wait like when Bucky was on the front lines and he was a dancing monkey. Wait like he always did.

The Winter Soldier didn’t regret his decisions. The Winter Soldier didn’t regret his actions as wave after wave of panic and nausea rolled over him, his knife held in a white-knuckle grip, eyes wide and as an animal. The Winter Soldier didn’t regret his decisions, but _Bucky_ did. Bucky felt like screaming and crying and killing himself so that he wouldn’t have to deal with this _guilt_. So many people were laying on the ground in puddles of their own blood. Once the puddle gotten to a certain size, they were beyond help.

So many people had been screaming at him to _stop_ , they would do _anything_ if he would just _stop_! He shouldn’t have been thinking or feeling this or seeing these memories. He should be wiped and reconditioned, an unfeeling ocean breaking down the stones of humanity. But there were _so many_. So many victims, so many hurt, and it was all his fault. All his fault. He was a whimpering mess and he had no idea what to do. He couldn’t breath. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t-

He heard vibrating from next to him. His breathing remained frantic but he willed his body to move. He picked up the phone, eyes going wide in panic. It was an unknown number but he knew who it was. His masters. Shaking and fumbling he tried to calm his breathing, but barely succeeded. He answered the call.

“Authorization code.” Rapid-fire Russian greeted him coolly; he gave his code and waited. And waited. “Winter Soldier, we haven’t heard from you. We were starting to worry.” Another flood of panic washed over him at his superior’s words. He almost preferred waiting.

“I lost track of time.” He tried to keep the strain out of his voice and hoped his master wouldn’t notice. “The captive is complacent and hasn’t said anything of interest.”

“Backup will be there tomorrow.” His superiors _had_ to believe him. But the distrust in his masters’ voice sent shivers down Bucky’s spine. He tried to smother the feeling, but it sunk into his gut anyway. Bucky swallowed hard.

“Yes sir.” The phone went dead, but he stayed with his ear to the phone for a while longer, listening to the disconnected beeping. He felt calmer now, like dread was suffocating his anxiety. He tilted his head back and breathed. Neither Bucky Barnes nor the Winter Soldier had ever been this kind of mess before that he could remember. He didn’t know how to feel, who he was, or who to turn to. All he had was a few murky memories and Steve. But Steve was enough, Steve had to be enough, he always had been. Bucky put his head in his hands, the metal arm whirring quietly, and wondered if he could pray, or who would hear.

It was only a while later when Bucky showed up in Steve’s cell. He was quiet again, bearing no food or any other gifts. Steve looked up as soon as Bucky stepped into the room, and smiled one of his brightest smiles. Bucky thought it was horribly out of place in the prison, but didn’t say anything because that would make that small sliver of sunshine go away, and he wasn’t going to risk that.

“How are you?” Steve asked, as if they weren’t in a secret Hydra base. Like they had not lain next to each other closer than just friends. It was the first time the thought of them being more than friends occured to the Winter Soldier, and the epiphany was so ground shattering and obvious at the same time. He strode towards Steve, sat next to him, so close that their thighs were touching. His flesh arm was brushing against Steve’s and he just wanted to lean into him, to fall asleep with him again and make everything go away.

“Were you in love with him?” He asked, voice in a whisper like they were sharing sacred secrets.

“Who?” Steve knew all too well who Bucky was asking about, but playing dumb had always been one of his strongest assets.

“Bucky. The man you grew up with.” They were so close, but Steve was tense, unlike when they’d had their conversation last night.

If Steve just closed his eyes, he could imagine that they were back in Brooklyn, in a simpler time and Bucky was asking if he was sweet on a girl. Bucky even still smelled the same. But if he opened his eyes he would still be here, sitting in heavy silence, the question unwillingly unanswered.

“Yes.” He finally said, and looked Bucky in the eyes, showing him all the emotion of a man who had lost all he had stood for and with. “I do love him.” Bucky didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything. The word choice was not lost on him, and the silence was heavier than usual. Always the master of avoidance, he changed the subject.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” Bucky asked, stiff concern flitting across his face. It was odd to care for another human being. It was odd to give them food, drink, and be entirely responsible for their survival. Well, not entirely responsible, for he could have fled with Steve from the wretched Hydra base, gone somewhere remote and unperturbed and start over. But he couldn’t do that. The fear was too ingrained, the terror of free will and disobedience. If he acted out of line, they would surely hurt him, or worse, they would hurt Steve. He couldn’t stand that. Not after years of having nothing to live for, then a sliver of hope is dangled under his nose and snatched away when he finally reached for it. He couldn’t do it. Not this time. So he had to obey. He had to do what was _right_.

“Um… I’d like to take a shower?” Steve said quietly, hand on the back of his neck. Bucky hadn’t even thought about it. He stood up quickly.

“Sure. Just follow me...” Bucky walked out of the room first, but kept a close eye on Steve. He wasn’t going to cuff him, but Bucky certainly especially let him get away in his condition. He was mobile, but still limping, however well he tried to hide it. Steve didn’t want Bucky to feel guilty.

But he felt guilty anyways.

When they reached the showers Bucky handed Steve a towel and a small basket of soap, shampoo, and other necessities. The showers themselves were small stalls separated by concrete walls. Steve started to pull the curtain back on his chosen stall when Bucky stopped him.

“I…have to keep watch.” Bucky was embarrassed, looking away from Steve’s confused face. But it made sense. Steve was still a prisoner and Bucky had to watch over him to make sure he didn’t attempt to escape or hurt Bucky… or himself. Steve smiled reassuringly.

“That’s okay. We’ve seen each other naked before.” Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise. He took a step back, his ears reddening. Steve suddenly realized what the sentence had sounded like.

“N-not like that! We grew up together, we were in the army together, so we saw each other bathing a lot…” Steve rambled on, his fair cheeks pinkening in embarrassment. He didn’t mention how many times he’d thought about Bucky and him…like that. Or how many times his gazed had lingered on his oblivious friend, washing himself down, naked and unabashed. Bucky nodded and stepped away so Steve could shower, ears still flushed.

As the shower started up Bucky battled his convoluting thoughts. After thinking about it, he remembered being in the army with Steve, how Steve’s new body looked as he stood under the water, face always pink no matter how many times The Howling Commandoes had been forced to shower together. He had wondered if Steve had been embarrassed when he was in basic training, still skinny, but surrounded by bigger and buffer men. He wondered if Steve had been intimidated by their stature against his own, or if they had made fun of him for being small, or even if Steve hadn’t been embarrassed at all with these new strangers battling lack of sleep and constant exercise.

But most of all, he wondered if there had been a man who had lusted after Steve, had wanted him for his small size. If that unnamed man had whispered things to Steve about how pretty his body was, or how nice he sounded, or how he felt just like a dame under his hands. Bucky had expected to feel disgusted at the thought of some guy being with Steve, and he did, but mostly he felt jealousy roiling in the pit of his gut. Bucky thought about it so much he was almost sure it was real.

He thought about how they would have made eye contact in the mess hall, both of them trying to act like friends and like the feverish bruises on Steve’s thighs weren’t from that guy’s mouth. They would walk a little too close together, or try to will the other through their stiff exercises. Then at night, when everyone else was asleep, they would climb into bed together. The guy would kiss Steve as if it were the last chance he would get, and Steve would do the same. They would grind together, trying to muffle their pants and moans. The guy would fuck Steve while he held onto the bed frame with white knuckles until they both were done. There would have been no time for kissing or cuddling or anything other than sex, so Steve would slink back to his bed and fall asleep the moment his body hit the bed.

They would have hid it all through basic training until Steve had gotten his super serum. Then he never saw that guy again. Maybe Steve still thought about that guy when he was alone and scared. Bucky had “died” before he could ever ask about Steve’s time alone.

Bucky wanted to give Steve the privacy to bathe in peace; but he hadn’t seen him in so long. He hadn’t traced the curves of Steve’s body with his eyes for decades, and he wondered if time had changed Steve’s new body at all. The curiosity was unbearable. Bucky was to watch him anyways, and just a little peek wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Bucky turned and slowly looked up. Steve was washing his hair with the shitty shampoo Bucky had given him, the white suds dribbling down in the moderate spray. His back was turned to Bucky, and through the steam, Bucky admired the way Steve stood, putting his well-toned muscles to display just the right way. Bucky’s breath hitched minutely as the water carry those white suds all the way down to the small of Steve’s back, sliding just the way he imagined his hand would over Steve’s skin. His breath was coming harder, feeling a lot more turned on than he should have. _Dear God_ this had been a bad idea. His eyes trailed down from Steve’s arms down to his back, and all the way over to his ass, then followed Steve’s long legs, trying not to think about kissing, about licking, and sucking Steve anywhere he could reach. But it was so difficult. Bucky thought about how Steve’s face would look as Bucky fucked him within an inch of his life. He had to swallow down a groan at that. With a the greatest self-control he could muster, Bucky tore his gaze away from the oblivious man and looked to the floor, slumping against the wall to let out his breath. He prayed to God that Steve hadn’t heard the change in his breathing, but Bucky still held, listening hard just to make sure. He heard nothing different; the water kept pattering on the floor, so he assumed he was safe.

What was he thinking? What was going on? Had Steve’s old Bucky thought like this? Felt like this? Had he ever told Steve? Had they ever been…together? Steve had said he had loved Bucky and that he still did… The Winter Soldier put his head in his hands.

Disobeying orders, becoming attached to the enemy, and now thinking about the enemy in blatantly sexual ways… What had his life become? But he knew that it was all wrong, what Hydra had done to him, what they’d made him into. Or at least that’s what Steve said. Then with numbness that went all the way to the bones he thought something that changed everything. _What if Steve was lying?_

He quickly rationalized. Steve had told him everything… who he was, how they’d met, how they’d lived when they were young. They had both survived for way too long; both had been put on ice to be kept young. Then Bucky had “remembered” his old life, his old Steve. He was shaking then, rage building up in his body. Steve could very well not even be Captain America’s name. The Winter Soldier had wanted his memories so bad, had wanted to be a person so much, that he had made his own. And this man, this prisoner, had taken advantage of him. Had told him all the stories he had always wanted to hear. About how he was a hero, a charming kid, someone with a life and a past.

Suddenly he couldn’t control himself anymore, and turned the corner swiftly. He lunged at Captain America too fast for him to even react. Then he was over Steve, holding his hands over his head in his human fist, glowering down at him.

“What the fuck… Bucky?” ‘Steve’s’ yell ended in a whisper when he saw the Winter Soldier’s face.

“Don’t you dare call me that.” The Winter Soldier growled at the man under him who was completely bare and sopping wet. His own light black shirt and cargo pants were being sprayed with lukewarm water, but the soldier didn’t care.

“What happened? What’s going on?” ‘Steve’ stuttered, flickering from the Winter Soldier’s face to his rigid body, obviously looking for a way out.

“You lied to me.” If he had yelled it would have been less frightening, but the cool tone the words had taken on was so much worse. Steve felt like his heart had stopped, looking up into Bucky’s face he only saw the twisted fury of the Winter Soldier, with none of the fragile new Bucky that had been there before. “Tell me your name.” The words were a whisper, Steve’s eyes widened when he heard them, skin going pale.

“B-Bucky listen to me… I don’t kn--!” Steve started, his words frantic.

“Tell. Me. Your. Name.” The grip on his wrists tightened until it hurt, and Steve couldn’t find any way out. He tried to calm his breathing, tried to be rational.

“My name is Steven Grant Rogers.” He said lowly, careful not to let his fear into his voice.

“No!” Bucky exploded, metal fist crashing into the tile next to Steve’s head. Bucky pulled back his arm, bits and pieces of tile fell down onto Captain America’s shoulder. He trembled in fear while The Winter soldier was still and seemingly calm.

“No. Tell me your real name.”

“Please stop this.”

“Tell me your real name.”

“Stop!”

“Tell me-“ Then there were lips on his, desperate and warm and eager. It was stupid and it was risky but there was no other way out. The Winter Soldier’s eyes were wide in surprise, but Steve’s were closed and intent. After a moment Bucky let Steve’s arms go, which Steve immediately wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders. The kiss broke and Steve looked up at Bucky with something akin to guilt in his eyes.

“Do you believe me now?” Steve sighed out, watching Bucky’s eyes closely. Bucky didn’t answer, just stood up, water spraying around him. He looked down at Steve collapsed on the ground, whose eyes were full of hope. He turned away and left the room silently. Steve was alone. The Captain stared into space for a while, replaying what had happened over and over in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGER. I sort of have no idea what the plot is gonna be so if you've got ideas let me know.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so we've taken the first step which is the hardest part of the journey, right? Right????? Well I hope you stick around and enjoy the ride! Thanks for reading!!! Until next time uwu


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